Single Player (18 page)

“You're not relaxing.” Matthew smiled, knowing there was no way Silas could relax in this situation.

“Fuck you.” Silas sounded strangled, but Matthew laughed, since it meant Silas was getting close to the edge. He only swore during sex. At Matthew's laugh, Silas frowned, his eyes opening to slits. Despite his frown, he didn't
really
look upset. “You're doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?” Matthew tightened his grip a fraction but slowed his strokes, too, starting to focus entirely on the head of Silas's cock.

“You're . . . you're making it hard for me to . . . relax.” Silas breathed out the last word as Matthew twisted the head.

“Oh, so I should stop?” Matthew smiled.

“No, shit, don't stop.” Silas swore again, his voice needy. Matthew could get used to seeing him like this, just wanting. Plus, the swearing was unexpectedly adorable and even sexier than if he swore all the time. Knowing he was making the straitlaced, uptight Silas distracted enough that he swore? Smoking hot.

Matthew reached over to the lube on the coffee table, finally, and dripped it down onto Silas's dick. The cold touch caused Silas to jerk and make a little
ungh
noise, a noise that turned into a moan as soon as Matthew began stroking him again. Long, smooth strokes, enough pressure and consistency to turn Silas into a squirming, moaning mess. He slicked up his own cock as well, the first touch making him groan, but Silas was too far gone to realize it.

They were going to make a mess on his sofa, but he didn't even care, because this hot, luxurious sex was incredible, and Silas probably wasn't going to even remember his name in a few minutes, let alone the problems that had brought him here.

“Here. Scoot over.” Matthew lay on his side between Silas and the back of the couch, edging him over. “Face me.”

Silas gasped, the position pushing him nearly off the couch. “Hey, you're going to shove me off!”

“Better come close.” Matthew pulled Silas in by the hip, lining up their groins, and Silas's eyelids fluttered again. In this position, Silas couldn't move very much with his precarious balance on the edge of the couch, whereas Matthew had the back of the couch for his own leverage. He pulled Silas snugly against him with a hand on his hip, feeling the hot press of Silas's erection against his own, and just stayed put for a moment. Silas squirmed after just a few seconds, wanting more contact, but had to reach out for the back of the couch to steady himself.

“This is ridiculous.” Silas's laugh sounded breathless. “We should just move to the bed.”

“No, we're staying here. Nice and slow.” Matthew used his leverage to rock slowly against Silas, rubbing their cocks against each other, holding their bodies tightly together with his hand on the other man's hip. He tucked one leg between Silas's, nudging them apart, allowing them to slot more tightly together. Silas groaned and let his head drop to the side, eyes falling closed, mouth opening with his exhale. Matthew understood perfectly. This was good, too good for the trapped confines of their position, the limited movement somehow hotter and more intense for the limitations. He was face-to-face with his partner and leaned in for a kiss. Silas kissed back, his moans swallowed by Matthew's lips, finally getting a sense of how to move in this position. With one hand gripping the back of the couch over Matthew's side, he was able to move his hips in response, the slick slide of their cocks together like wordless perfection. Matthew felt himself growing tense and searching for release, his body aching to thrust harder, faster, more, but kept up the steady pace until Silas was rutting against him shamelessly. The sensation was better than he had thought. He broke the kiss to breathe, having to hold off his orgasm only by force of will. Using his hand on Silas's hip, he forced the other man to slow down.

“Easy,” he murmured against Silas's lips. “There's no race. Slow and steady. Let it build.”

Silas met Matthew's eyes, his own eyes wide and lost and lust-filled and trusting in a way that was open and raw, and the contact was so intimate that Matthew wanted to look away. He felt something in his heart reaching out to comfort and protect. No, he wasn't ready for that. This was sex, nothing more, not this raw intimacy that could so easily be more. Silas slowed his hips, letting them rock more gently, and Matthew felt the slow, inexorable build, the tightness in his groin indicating that yes, soon. Silas breathed slowly, deeply, his body an undulation against Matthew's, and they were pressed so tightly together that Matthew could feel the minute shudders in Silas's muscles as he reached the precipice.

“Oh,” Silas breathed, and almost no sound came out. “I'm . . . oh my god . . .” That was all he said before he was coming hot and wet all over both of them, his body spasming against Matthew in great heaving convulsions. The moment was too much for Matthew, who had been barely holding out, and he only took a few more thrusts in the slippery mess between them before he felt his own body seize up with the pleasure spasms of climax.

When Silas went boneless, his arm dropping down off the back of the couch, he almost fell off the couch entirely, only Matthew's hand on his hip snaking out to pull him close saved him. Silas started laughing, his eyes soft and warm and not at all wild anymore, and gingerly sat up. “Oh goodness, that was . . . that was something.”

“Yeah.” Matthew still felt that intimacy, the type of intimacy that was frightening for its intensity and suddenness. He laughed with Silas, but his laugh felt like it was hiding something way too big, something he didn't have a name for that was new and different and frightening. He covered it up by getting a cloth to clean them both. Afterward, when Matthew returned wearing a pair of loose sweatpants, Silas was in a seated position on the couch, his arms hanging over the back. He'd pulled his own underwear back on but nothing else.

“How do you feel?” Matthew asked, taking Silas's drink glass into the kitchen. “You want another drink? Still want to get drunk?”

Silas tipped his head to the side, clearly considering. “I think I'm better now. A little better. That might change once the hormones wear off.”

“Sex hormones are powerful business.” Yeah, no kidding. That was why he was thinking about how sweet this guy was and how he wanted to cuddle with him on the couch like some kind of bad chick flick. He wasn't opposed to cuddling, but this felt like emotional cuddling, and that wasn't something he wanted to do right now. He didn't have anything
against
relationships, not really, but this whatever-it-was with Silas felt like it had snuck up on him instead of being something he had actively pursued. Thinking about emotional connection, meaningful relationships, commitment—it all seemed too big to deal with right now.

Silas seemed in no hurry to put his clothes back on, which wasn't surprising considering how hot it felt in the apartment. “Warm, huh?” Matthew asked. “Want me to turn the air up?”

“No, I'll get cooler soon. I'm just still worked up.” Silas wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Maybe some water, actually?”

“Sure.” Matthew brought them each a glass of water and sat down next to Silas on the couch. “You feeling any less stressed?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Silas nodded. “Much more normal than when I arrived.”

“Why surprisingly?”

“I don't usually find sex relaxing.” Silas licked his lips. “I know you were teasing me about that, but it's true. I tend to get pretty worked up. And I can't generally get out of my head. But that . . . that was different. Really different.”

“Good different, or bad different?”

“Good different.” Silas smiled. “Really good different.”

Matthew grinned. “Well, all right, then.” Good different? He'd take it.

---

Silas hadn't been lying
to Matthew; he felt invigorated and refreshed after their lazy couch sex. Sex hormones really were powerful. Of course, he knew all about that from his medical background, but had seldom experienced it himself. His short-lived relationships never made him feel like this, as if he wanted to open up to this other man and share his thoughts and feelings. He didn't feel that way with anyone, but he liked Matthew, and was starting to enjoy being with him more than being alone. Whatever it meant, it was new and frightening and too much to handle on the emotional roller coaster he'd already faced today.

“You know, you don't have to leave.” Matthew threw an arm around him affectionately. “You can stick around, we can play some games, and you can sleep here tonight. It's up to you. I've got to work tomorrow, but you're welcome to stay over.”

Silas was shaking his head before he'd even fully considered Matthew's offer. “Stay here? No, I can't do that. I need to be home. I can't really relax if I'm not home.” He felt the panic rise in him again, and Matthew waved his hands in an “easy, easy” gesture.

“It's okay. No worries.” Matthew smiled, his smile seeming tentative, and Silas felt bad that he'd had such a knee-jerk negative reaction to a logical offer.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak out like that. I don't know what's wrong with me lately.” Silas sighed. He felt like he was watching himself from a distance. When he was with Matthew, he felt better, but that diminished shortly thereafter.

Matthew moved as if to speak, but then hesitated. Finally, he said, “Listen, don't take this the wrong way, but maybe you should talk to someone. A professional. You're clearly pretty upset, and I don't think you should work through something like that on your own. Not that you couldn't. Just that . . . you shouldn't have to.”

Silas nodded, having already considered this. “I think I'm going to, yes. It's not something I ever really looked into, but I don't want to feel like this any longer.” He let his hands hang limp between his legs, resting forward with his forearms on his thighs. “There are resources through Wayscorp that I'm going to look into.”

“Good.” Matthew nodded encouragingly, patting his back. Coming from Matthew, such a gesture didn't feel condescending. The attention made him want to stick around a bit longer, but he didn't want to overstay his welcome. The emotional connection also had the odd side effect of making him feel even more naked and vulnerable.

Silas started to pull on the rest of his clothing. “I should go.” He got to his feet, finally tugging his socks back on, and looked around for the other things he'd brought. “So, Friday afternoon, then? We'll go build the wheelchair? Is there anything we'll need first?”

“Yeah, we'll need to swing by Home Depot, get all this stuff.” Matthew was watching him get ready to go with undisguised concern in his eyes. “You sure you're okay? I mean, are you okay to drive?”

Silas considered. He'd drunk a substantial amount of alcohol not very long ago, and while he felt fine, he might not be. He didn't get inebriated often enough to know. “I'm actually not sure.” He rubbed his jaw. “I think so, but I don't know. I probably shouldn't risk it.”

“No, definitely not.” Matthew pulled on a T-shirt and stepped into some sandals. “I can drive you home. Tomorrow, I can pick you up to get your car, or you can take a cab over. Whatever.”

Silas thought about turning down the offer and taking a taxi home instead, but a little more time with Matthew would be nice. “Thanks.”

The drive home was quiet and soothing. Silas watched the lights of the city pass by as Matthew drove him back, thinking of his next steps. He felt calmer, knowing he had a few things to do. Tomorrow, he'd contact a psychiatrist from the Wayscorp employee resources directory, and then he'd look for freelancing jobs on craigslist. He would have to tell Dee what had happened, and maybe she would want to get together as well.

“Take the next right,” he directed, following up on the instructions he'd given Matthew so far. Matthew turned down his street, weaving down the stretch of bungalows visible in the dim light of streetlamps.

Matthew looked around as they drove. “This is a nice neighborhood.”

Silas nodded. “Yes, I really like it here. My place is this one down on the right. The one with the yellow mailbox.” He pointed, and Matthew pulled in the driveway and parked. For a moment, Silas didn't get out, staring at the dark house. With no lights on, it seemed unbearably lonely, and he didn't want to be alone. Without thinking it through, he asked, “Do you want to come in?”

Matthew hesitated, and Silas immediately regretted asking. He had been vulnerable enough for one evening. He'd been a drain on Matthew's time and friendship. The man had responsibilities, and he had to go to work in the morning, whereas Silas had none of those things. “I'd like to, man, but the cat—” Matthew began, but Silas cut him off.

“No, no, it's fine.” Silas waved his hand. “Never mind. Forget I asked. I'll come pick up my car tomorrow, and then I'll see you Friday.” He opened the door and started to climb out, but he was stopped by Matthew's hand on his arm.

“Hey.” Matthew was looking at him with concern in his eyes. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? I'm here for you.”

The concern seemed genuine, and Silas was afraid to read too much into that, but he liked feeling like someone cared. Maybe he wasn't a drain on Matthew's time. Maybe Matthew legitimately enjoyed his company. He wanted to hope so. “All right.”

Matthew leaned in for a kiss, and Silas met him in the middle willingly, returning his kiss, which felt like the dawn of something new and delicate between them. Matthew's touch calmed him and made him feel like everything was going to be all right. After they said good night and he went into his house, after he watched Matthew drive away through the front window, he could still feel that kiss on his lips, warm and lingering and even somewhat hopeful.